The Failed Date
by M.E. Johnson-McNeil
Summary: Sherlock nearly kills John's dinner date to get him to come home. After a confrontation, Sherlock and John find themselves in a rather...compromising position. Will this moment ruin their friendship or bring about something more? (Johnlock, Rated M for / and lemon content, mostly takes place between Baskerville & Reichenbach)


***Hello lovelies! Decided to try my hand at some Johnlock slash fiction. Lots of lemon-ness below, so if you're not interested in reading a bunch of dirty smut, then I suggest you go and read something else. You have been warned. If it's awful, I'm sorry. It's the first ever slash fic I've written, so go easy on me. Anyway, hope you all enjoy! Have a wonderful day!***

 **The Failed Date **

Sherlock sat cross-legged on the couch, scouring every single inch of his mind for the information he wanted. He furrowed his brow as he heard the door slam shut downstairs and opened his eyes when he heard John step into the room.

' _Red face, vein in temple pulsing, traces of chlorophyll stained into his right palm, tie undone. Bad date.'_

"Did you have a good time with Sylvia?" He asked, smirking.

"Did I...you know bloody well that I did not have a good time with _Alice_." John stood in front of him and Sherlock hid his amusement. "Did you know that she's severely allergic to strawberries?"

"I noted that she had an epipen in her pocketbook when she came over here." John stared at him incredulously. "She may also have mentioned the strawberry allergy once before."

"Sherlock, you could have killed the woman! _You_ suggested chocolate covered strawberries as a surprise dessert, knowing that she was allergic. I gave her the medication in the middle of our date. In a _restaurant,_ Sherlock. I had to hike up her skirt in the middle of a restaurant and everyone was staring. An old woman thought I was trying to take advantage of her and beat me over the head with her umbrella." Sherlock began to smirk at John once more, watching as his face turned a deeper red than he'd ever thought possible. "You don't care do you?"

"I knew you would handle it," Sherlock replied. "You didn't happen to bring home any of those strawberries, did you?"

The consulting detective got up from the couch, going to close the door to the flat. This was one fight that he didn't want Mrs. Hudson walking in on. He turned to find John clenching and unclenching his fists and he smiled, amused at the man's anger.

"John, she was a waste of your time. You were merely a fling for her. She was only interested in you to see if she was happy with her partner or not. Which, she is very happy with him since he gave her the ring last week."

"Wh- _how_ do you know that exactly?" John pinched the bridge of his nose, going to sit down in his chair. "Were you spying on her?"

Sherlock grabbed the paper off the coffee table, tossing it at John. "Turn to the engagement announcements. I'm surprised you didn't see it this morning when you read the paper. Oh, that's right. You didn't read the paper this morning because you were running late for work and too focused on your date tonight to even realize it."

John flipped through the paper, freezing as he found the announcement. "Alice R. Cunningham. But...but she told me-"

"She lied," Sherlock spat. "Goodness, John, when are you going to realize that people lie? She knew what you were looking for and she took the opportunity and ran with it."

"And what exactly is it you think I'm looking for?"

"Sex." Sherlock knew he was right when the tips of John's ears turned pink. "Ever since you broke up with that doctor woman, you've been looking for someone to sleep with. I'm not blind, John, nor am I stupid."

"That's...that's not…" Sherlock closed the gap between them, towering over John, taking his hand. "Sherlock, w-what are you doing?"

"You've been looking for someone to share your bed when the answer has been with you the entire time," Sherlock murmured, pulling John closer to him. "Did you really think that I would have her go into anaphylactic shock without purpose?"

John stared up at him, mouth agape. "Sherlock, what-"

"Stop talking John," Sherlock crooned in his ear, pressing a kiss to his neck right below his earlobe. "Stop talking and come with me."

John's protests fell away as Sherlock pressed kiss after kiss against his neck, up his jaw, and then to the corners of his lips. The doctor turned his head towards Sherlock, but the consulting detective pulled away, a small smile on his lips. John let out a small groan, pressing himself against Sherlock, arms wrapping around his waist as he stared up at him with those stormy grey eyes. Sherlock felt himself grow hard, as he had nearly every time he'd seen John in the past few weeks.

Perhaps it had been jealousy seeing John with these women or perhaps he was finally getting past the asexual phase of his life. But he'd found that he couldn't get the doctor out of his head and it was beginning to seep into his work. So Sherlock had found two options. Either shove the feelings away into a box never to be touched again or satisfy his curiosity. Sherlock had never been one to deny himself or his curiosity, so he'd made up his mind as to what he was going to do. He pressed another kiss to John's neck, sucking on the skin gently as he began to unbutton John's shirt.

"Sherlock...Sherlock stop…" John pushed him away and Sherlock looked at him, confused. "I don't...this can't...leave me alone Sherlock. I need to think."

John turned, dashing upstairs to his room and Sherlock sighed. He'd done everything he'd thought was right. So why had John run away? Sherlock sat down in his chair, pressing his hands together, eyes closed. Had he not done something correctly?

* * *

Sherlock stepped into the shower, mind still working to figure out the problem. He still couldn't understand. He'd thought that John had liked him. He'd seen the glances, the attempts at flirtation. What else could John have meant by commenting on his being mysterious with his cheekbones? Had he read wrong into the situation? If that was the case, had it cost him his friendship with John?

The detective heard the door quietly slide open and then close again. He smiled to himself but said nothing, scrubbing the shampoo into his hair. He could hear John's mind working away at what to say, but what exactly it was, Sherlock didn't know.

"John, I wish to apologize for my rash actions earlier," Sherlock began. "I know that what I did must have been unexpected and I-"

The curtain was pulled back, revealing John standing in front of the tub with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Sherlock felt his pulse quicken and John stared down at his feet, ears turning pink.

"John?"

Without a word, John let the towel drop to the floor and Sherlock's eyes widened as he stared at John's naked form. "John, I don't want you-"

"Sherlock, shut up." John said quietly, looking at Sherlock, eyes dark with an emotion that Sherlock had never seen before on his face. What was it? Desire? Passion? "I know that you don't understand why I left. But I left because I was worried that if I took this step with you, it would change our friendship. Also...I've never felt this way towards another man before in my life. Can I join you in the shower?"

Sherlock stepped back under the water, allowing John to step into the tub. Sherlock reached out to touch the bullet wound scar on his shoulder, but John flinched away. "No, Sherlock. Let me...let me set the pace. Please."

Slowly Sherlock nodded and John stepped towards him, reaching out to rest one hand on Sherlock's chest. His other hand trailed down his stomach, brushing against his hip before going to cup his rear. Sherlock sighed as John pulled him close, the hand that was once on his chest now massaging the nape of his neck, fingers toying with the wet, dark curls. John looked up at him once more with those stormy grey eyes and that was all that Sherlock could take.

He pulled John's body tight against him, kissing him on the lips. This time though, instead of pulling away, John kissed him back. Sherlock parted his lips with his tongue, tasting the sweetness that was John Watson's mouth. John groaned as Sherlock suckled his lower lip and Sherlock felt as though he were struck by electricity when John's stomach rubbed against his hard cock. Without a word, he was pressing the smaller man against the wall, pinning him there as he kissed him passionately.

"Sherlock...Sherlock…"

"What?" The detective pulled back, staring down at John. "Don't tell me you're going to run away again."

"Far from it. Cut the water off and let's go to your bedroom."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure?"

"It's now or never Sherlock. I want you. Please don't make me beg."

Sherlock reached behind his back, cutting the water off. John was still staring at him with those same needy eyes and Sherlock smirked. "Would you really have begged?"

"Sherlock," John's voice was pleading. "Please don't make me."

"Oh I won't Doctor Watson," Sherlock closed the gap between them, fisting his hand in John's short hair, forcing him to look at him. "Not yet anyway."

Pushing him against the wall once more, he shuddered at the feeling of John's lean-muscled body against his. Sherlock reached between them, wrapping his hand around John's shaft, stroking him gently, thumb brushing against the sensitive tip. John's head fell back, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Bloody hell...Sherlock, what are you trying to do, make me-"

Sherlock kissed him hard, silencing him as he continued his steady rhythm. John writhed under him, but Sherlock wouldn't let him move. Suddenly he stopped and John let out a pitiful whimper. "Why'd you stop?"

"Because I want to take my time with you." He took John's hand, leading him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. "If that's alright."

John nodded and Sherlock gripped him by his hips, lowering him to the bed, pressing kisses to his stubbled jawline. John groaned as Sherlock took his right nipple in-between his teeth, biting gently. Sherlock ground his hips against John, feeling the man lift his hips in response. To his surprise, John was flipping him to his back, one hand fisting in his hair, the other going to wrap around Sherlock's rock-hard dick. Sherlock tried to hold back a moan, but found that he couldn't, his head falling back on the bed in ecstasy.

"J-John...what...what're you…"

"Beg."

"I'm sorry?"

"Beg me for it Sherlock." John's hand continued a steady rhythm, lightly squeezing on every third stroke. "I want to hear you beg me for it."

Sherlock tried to move, but found that John had him pinned. He looked up at John, finding a small smile on his lips. "John, let me up."

John's grip tightened ever so slightly and he began to pick up his pace. "No. I want you to beg me for release. I want you to plead."

Sherlock tried to control his mind, but found that he couldn't. Every stroke of John's hand, every kiss that John pressed to his bare chest, broke down what little control he had left. Sherlock's hands fisted in the blankets and he let out a soft sigh. He barely even noticed that John's hand had left his hair and was instead gripping his behind, a finger courting his asshole. Sherlock hissed as John slid one spit-soaked digit inside of him, but John continued to rub his hard cock, his finger resting inside of him.

Sherlock couldn't formulate words or thoughts. He could only focus on the new sensations that John was bringing to him. Sherlock felt as though he were going to burst at the seams and he gripped John's shoulders, thrusting his hips up to John, noting the smile on his face.

"Come now Sherlock. Beg me for it. I'll make it worth your while if you do."

"Please," Sherlock managed to choke out as John inserted a second digit. "Please John. Please."

John pulled his fingers out of Sherlock and, with his now free hand, he reached behind him, grabbing the lubricant that he'd noticed Sherlock had left out. "You're clean of all diseases, right?"

"Yes," Sherlock panted. "John...I…"

"I know. I do too." John dripped a few drops onto himself and Sherlock was reaching up to massage it onto him. He continued to add drops until he was satisfied. "Get onto your hands and knees. Try to keep relaxed for me, alright?"

Sherlock nodded. This wasn't how he'd planned on things going, not at all, but he found himself enjoying it. He trusted John and knew that the man would do everything in his power to not hurt him. He flipped onto his hands and knees, feeling John's calloused hands on his backside. Slowly, ever so slowly, John slid inside of him. Sherlock focused on keeping his body relaxed, but he didn't find it difficult to do when John reached around, gripping his throbbing cock in his hand.

"We'll go slow," John murmured in his ear. "If it hurts, tell me. I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," Sherlock replied, turning his head to press a kiss to John's lips. "I trust you."

One hand on Sherlock's hips, the other stroking his shaft, John began to slide in and out of Sherlock. The pain was bearable after the first few strokes and then Sherlock felt that same sense of being ready to burst at the seams. His breathing came in ragged gasps, as did John's. John's pace was beginning to quicken and Sherlock could feel that the man was restraining himself.

"John...go with me…"

"Are you...sure?"

"Yes...John...John please...oh God...John...John!" Sherlock shouted, feeling himself bursting apart, his heart racing, his mind going blank for a few brief moments.

He could hear John moaning his name and the smaller man wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist, pulling out of him and then down onto the bed. He pulled Sherlock close, their legs intertwining, John pressing gentle kisses to Sherlock's neck. Sherlock let out a contented sigh, his eyes drifting closed.

"Sherlock?"

"Mhmm?"

"Did you plan all this?"

Sherlock smiled. "Not all of it. But a good portion."

"So...you ruined my date with Alice on purpose?"

"Maybe."

"Sherlock."

"Yes. I did." John got quiet and Sherlock rolled over to face him. "You're not upset with me, are you?"

"No, not at all," John replied, surprising Sherlock. "I...I'm glad you did."

Sherlock gave John a wide grin. "I'm glad I did too."

He pulled John close to him and they dozed off together, Sherlock resting his chin on top of John's head, John curled up against his chest. Right before Sherlock fell asleep, he heard John mumble a phrase that he'd never thought he'd hear in his life.

"I love you Sherlock Holmes."

Those five words rang through his mind as he fell asleep.

* * *

Blue-green eyes watched from the shadows as John stood at the grave. He'd been watching silently, wanting to come out from his hiding place and reassure John that he was alright, that he was still alive. But he knew that he couldn't. Not yet. Moriarty first, love later. Once he'd dismantled Moriarty's network, he would come back and tell John everything that he'd kept hidden for the past few months. That John had made his heart grow with his love, that he'd made him feel something he'd never thought he'd get to experience before.

"But please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock. For me." Sherlock felt his heart give a twinge as he heard the pain in his doctor's voice. "Don't. Be. Dead. Would you do that...just for me? Just stop it. Stop this."

Sherlock watched with curiosity as John set something on the top of the headstone before limping away. He had to swallow hard against the lump that had formed in his throat. Sherlock waited until he was sure that John had gone back to the cab with Mrs. Hudson before he stepped out of his hiding place.

He walked slowly towards the grave, his heart doubling in speed as he spotted the velvet box sitting on top of the grave. With shaking hands, he took it, opening it up to find a simple men's silver wedding band, four stones set into it, two diamonds and two garnets. Sherlock knelt down at his headstone and for the first time since Redbeard had died, he began to weep.

"John Hamish Watson...I love you too."

He slipped the ring onto his ring finger before getting to his feet. There was a mission he needed to complete.

Moriarty first...love later.


End file.
